Rain (Fall Down)
by Eleture
Summary: Anon prompted: "when kurt and blaine talk after burt goes to bed on christmas, blaine admits that he feels depressed, and suicidal." TW: depression, discussion of suicide


Anon prompted: when kurt and blaine talk after burt goes to bed on christmas, blaine admits that he feels depressed, and suicidal.

A/N: more of a long drabble than a one-shot or a ficlet with a little hint of Klangst for good measure.

TW: suicide, depression

**Rain (Fall Down)**

_Someone once told me that suicide is the modern fantasy._

_I didn't know what it meant then, but it seemed so incredibly profound that I wrote it down anyway._

_I think, now, that maybe he meant we dream of escape on those days when you look over the edge of your balcony and think "eight floors really isn't high enough"._

_Suicide is not an option for us, but sometimes it's hard not to wish it was._

_And on those days?_

_It's just about finding a reason to stay._

-.-.-.-

It's raining outside.

Just a quiet trickle of water running down the glass.

He watches it with interest: the way the little droplets gather together and pull each other down.

He wishes he could melt away with them.

"Blaine? You still awake?"

He pulls himself out of his reverie to glance back at Kurt, who has a dishtowel in hand and concerned eyes, almost like he can see into Blaine's thoughts.

Perhaps, Blaine considers as Kurt takes a hesitant step forward, it's the fact that Kurt canrr't read Blaine's blank expression that is cause for worry.

"Yeh, I'm awake." He replies. "I thought you'd gone to bed?"

Kurt sighs heavily and drops down onto the couch beside him. "Couldn't sleep."

Blaine nods sagely, and then turns back to the windows. He's not sure what to say, so he leaves the silence settle.

What is there to say? He cheated on Kurt and despite the surprise Christmas visit, his ex-boyfriend was still distant and distracted.

He bites his lip.

"I just thought things would be different when I moved here." Kurt whispers into the darkness. "I thought life would be easier, that I'd be living the dream." He looks around the room and then blue eyes settle on Blaine's, "It's not how I dreamt it."

A dark heaviness settles in Blaine's chest, gnaws at his stomach. He knows instinctively that Kurt is referring to Eli.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, but he words sound flat even to him. He wonders if Kurt notices.

No one else has.

Perhaps Tina has mistaken his quiet demeanour as a subtle attempt to discourage her affections.

Perhaps Sam has mistaken his empty eyes for disinterest.

Perhaps Finn and Artie have mistaken his tears for selfish drama.

Surely, Blaine Anderson of all people couldn't have just stopped feeling.

Blaine side-eyes Kurt and tries to guess what the other boy is thinking.

The wind taps on the glass panes and the rain trickles away.

He has the strangest urge to go and stand in the downpour just to see if he can feel it at all.

"You've been quiet today." Kurt observes after a moment.

Blaine nods, "Your dad…" He trails off, lets the thought of Burt's cancer settle in his mind again.

Kurt shifts and then shakes his head. "That's not it Blaine."

"No," He agrees quietly, "That's not it."

-.-.-.-

He first really notices it when he gets home from New York the first time.

His parents aren't there.

He drops his bags and unpacks his things.

He just stands there for a moment, in the empty hallways listening the sound of silence.

He's alone.

He's alone and it's his own fault.

-.-.-.-

He wakes up one Saturday morning to the feeling of devastation. He can't even explain it to himself. He just closes the curtains and goes back to bed.

If he doesn't gel this weekend, who's going to notice?

-.-.-.-

He stops on the way home to look over the little bridge and studies the rocks there.

It's not high enough he tells himself.

Maybe if he climbed the pylons first?

He considers it for a moment and then he notices the little girl and her mother skipping stones into the water. She squeals with delight at the splashes.

Not today, he tells himself.

Not when someone's watching.

-.-.-.-

He gets pulled back in Math class to talk to the teacher.

Ms. Reid gives him a polite smile and says gently, "Blaine, I couldn't help but noticed your homework was a little rushed this morning. You made some silly mistakes." She hands the paper back to him. "A little more effort and you might have had a perfect grade."

He looks at the mark – eighty-eight percent – and his lip quivers.

He can't pay attention to his next class because he feels inconsolably anxious; his hands are trembling ever so slightly.

He quivers on the edge of tears for almost four hours, but when he's finally alone in the empty quiet of his house, he can't bring himself to cry.

-.-.-.-

He wouldn't cut his wrists, he's decided.

If he had to choose a way to do it, that's not it.

He has a thing about getting blood on the kitchen knives and the idea pulling a razor apart makes the tips of his fingers tingle uncomfortably.

He doesn't have a problem if he's thinking of all the ways he's not going to die.

-.-.-.-

He watches Titanic on the weekend.

If Kurt is Rose: heartbroken and alone in a new place, then Blaine must be Jack.

Numb from the cold, waiting for death.

It's the first time the movie doesn't make him a little teary.

His sadness is too deep for tears, buried to far within himself.

Maybe that's why no one sees.

-.-.-.-

The New Directions need twelve people.

Wait until Nationals.

Can't let someone else down.

-.-.-.-

"Blaine?"

"Yeh?"

"I know we haven't spoken much."

"I'm sorry." He intones again, and though it doesn't sound like it: he means it. So much.

He's just forgotten how to feel it.

The memory is there, scrunched up behind the walls he builds for himself.

Kurt ignores his quiet injection to carry on, "but that doesn't mean I haven't noticed that you've been different lately."

Kurt's hand wraps around Blaine's bicep and squeezes gently, a familiar gesture that burns against the cold. He tries to bury the thought because Kurt has so much going on and he can't bear the thought of adding to the pile.

"Blaine, are you okay?"

He bites his lip and glances at the ceiling before he can answer. "Your dad is – you shouldn't worry about – it's just -?"

Kurt shuffles a little closer. "Blaine."

Hands turn his face so their eyes meet properly.

"I think so." He whispers quietly.

Kurt hums quietly so Blaine knows he's head the near confession.

"Sometimes." He amends.

Kurt doesn't say anything, just sits there almost close enough to touch and waits for Blaine to continue.

"Sometimes I-," He sighs, "It's just that since you moved away -," there's been no one to talk to.

"You've been lonely." Kurt hazards a guess. "I think I know that feeling."

Blaine doesn't doubt Kurt does, here in New York without a familiar face to turn to for comfort. He doesn't know what's worse: actually being alone or feeling lonely.

"Kurt, I think I need help." He finally admits, hands straying closer to the soft porcelain skin, he wants to feel a connection again.

Kurt reacts immediately, pulling him a little closer. "What is it?"

Blaine swallows thickly, "Sometimes all of this –," he waves a hand across the room like that somehow encompasses the empty house in Ohio; the friends who don't see him; the little girl at the bridge who made him hesitate; the countdown to Nationals; the knowledge he can't do it and break Kurt's heart again.

"It's okay to cry," Kurt murmurs into his hair.

"I can't."

If I let go now I'll fall apart and then the things I'm holding onto will wither away.

"What is it?"

"Sometimes I think about all the ways I could die," - cuts and bruises and crashes and leaps of faith – "and I'm so scared I'm not going to have an excuse to avoid them."

Kurt's breath shudders and the embrace tightens.

Blaine sinks into it and breathes deeply, the smell of vanilla and coffee lingers in the air.

They sit quietly in the darkness, and the rain falls on outside.

There's too much pain and fear in the room to wash away in one night, so they shelter together and wait for it to pass.

Together, it's a little easier to wait for sunrise.

—- FIN —-


End file.
